


The First Time

by SaunterVaguely



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaunterVaguely/pseuds/SaunterVaguely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has a new experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Really brief porny thing sort of based off of this drawing http://victorianpantaloons.tumblr.com/post/31317734036

Crowley can honestly say he’s never been so pleasantly surprised. 

He’s sprawled face-down on the least-creaky bed in Bobby’s house, ass in the air and getting fucked from behind. He expected that much of tonight; he and Bobby have a sort of mutual understanding and there was an unspoken agreement that tonight was the night they’d ‘go all the way’, so to speak. What he didn’t expect is that he’d be moaning like a whore and loving every second of it.

He’s already come once; he went into this expecting a lot of aimless pounding on Bobby’s end and not a lot of satisfaction on his end, so he managed to talk the hunter into giving him a quick handjob at the beginning of the evening. Now, however, he’s clamping a pillow in his teeth and feeling the definite beginnings of another erection stir as Bobby keeps up a slow but relentless grind against his prostate (which, excuse him, how did Bobby even do that? Who the hell nails it dead-on his first try??). The grinding turns to slow, deep thrusts and Crowley has to muffle a shout, reaching back to grab blindly at the human’s knee to ground himself. Bobby responds by curling one big, rough hand under the demon’s hip and hoisting him onto his knees, the new angle making Crowley drop the pillow and hump the air desperately.

He’s begging, and if he were coherent enough to form a single cohesive sentence he’d remind himself that he’s the king of Hell and he never, ever, ever begs, least of all during sex, but then Bobby pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the head of his cock buried. He starts a series of shallow, gentle thrusts, not quite deep enough to hit the prostate but enough to make Crowley shiver and squirm. After five minutes of this exquisite torture, Crowley can’t help but relax into the slow movement, pleasure washing over him in miniature waves, and he lets himself sag in Bobby’s grip, lets his fingers curl and uncurl in the blankets as small sounds fall from his lips, unbidden. He’s just about let his eyes drift shut when the hunter suddenly lunges forward with a motion that drives him so deep so unexpectedly that Crowley  _sobs_ , legs shooting out at a 90 degree angle, toes curling. Bobby doesn’t give him time to recover; he picks up the pace and drives in and out, jackhammering impossibly deep and perfect.

Crowley’s making all kinds of noises, nonsense sounds, ancient curses in dead languages, demonic gibberish and then before he can stop it- “Oh my god, oh my god, oh god oh god oh god—” the words burn his lips and tongue as he says them but he can’t help it, and now he’s saying things he hasn’t said in centuries, things he hasn’t said since he was  _human_. He realizes with a jolt that he’s on the verge of coming again, tries to say as much but he can’t catch his breath enough to speak, can only make hitched little whimpers and gasps. He sobs again, tries to crawl away from the ecstasy building in him, but the hands at his hips catch him, pull him back, cradle him even as Bobby bends down to pant in his ear, “Gonna come, nnh god—” and Crowley fucking  _screams_  into the mattress as the most intense orgasm he’s ever felt sweeps through him, wipes his brain clean and splits him apart, leaving him senseless even as Bobby falls against him with a cry of his own. 

They come back down together, Crowley with a few shaky, shocked whimpers and Bobby with a series of contented groans and sighs. 

And the final unexpected thing is the tenderness. Bobby trails kisses across Crowley’s shoulders, nuzzles behind his ear, huffing slow breaths that ruffle his hair. He runs his coarse hands up and down the demon’s spine, hips making ever-so-slow circles where he’s still inside the dark-haired man. He mumbles something and it takes a few seconds for Crowley’s fogged-up brain to decipher it— the hunter is asking if he’s okay. He manages to lift his head from the sheets, trying to come up with an appropriate response, but calloused fingers swipe at his cheek and Bobby makes a confused, distressed sound and Crowley realizes that there are actual tears trailing down his face. He has no explanation for that; he wasn’t even aware that he could cry. Bobby shifts, possibly concerned, and goes to pull out, and Crowley can’t put words to this but he can put action, so he brings both hands up and grips the human’s thighs, just under each buttock, squeezes, hoping he’ll be understood. Bobby relaxes, still inside him, sliding his palms down Crowley’s sides and letting out a pleased sigh. He rocks his hips slightly from side to side until the demon moans and shudders, too exhausted for more but aroused none the less. Bobby nestles his forehead in between Crowley’s shoulder blades and smiles, then reaches back to drag a sheet over their sweat-shining bodies as he lays one last kiss to the back of the smaller man’s neck before dozing off.

He absolutely will not say it out loud, but Crowley has the distinct impression that he’s just made love.


End file.
